Not For Dawn
by poor-ophelia
Summary: Chapter three is up!!! Iverwan's mind drifts to old rememberances, and she doesn't feel good enough for legolas... her brother Aragorn gets over protective(don't all big brothers?) R+R!!!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This takes place the night before the death of boromir. I am introducing two new characters, one in this chapter and another in the next,don't worry though, it will be a Legolas romance!(just not right at the very start)  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own any characters except Iverwan, Big Sir, and Eiyare.  
  
It was a black night.  
  
Darkness reigned, the starts hidden behind a blanket of clouds. The wind rushed past, billowing my long dark hair around my face, feeling like the soft hand that rushed me towards an unseen nexus of events, only, I had already seen the nexus, and I would not let it take the only one I held dear, my brother Aragorn.  
  
It had only been a few months since I had seen him last, heading towards Eriador to meet the wizard, Gandalf.  
  
If my brother died, I Iverwan, would continue to be the nameless king's bastard daughter I always was, and with the one thing in my life that kept me strong taken away.  
  
I had seen it.  
  
I was always nothing more than the consequence of a night with a half0elf at a rowdy tavern for my father, and I hadn't quite minded, seeing as how my brother always saw me as more than that. We weren't raised together, mother being a strange half-elf of sorts, she traveled, and I with her. I was a quarter elf, but Aragorn had always joked that it all came out in my ears, my personality held none of the calmness that seem to have an affinity in elves.  
  
I was brash and emotional, leaning more on intuition than sense, which is why I had only a thick wool cloak, my quiver of arrows and my bow, a dagger, and last but not least, my sword.  
  
I was being brash.  
  
I was going to find Aragorn and (hopefully I wasn't being egotistical) save him from the death my visions had shown me. I pulled on Big Sir's reigns to awaken the sleepy horse, "Come on Big Sir, we must be off, saving the world and all that nonsense of mine,"  
  
Big Sir grunted softly in agreement.  
  
"Quiet now, we don't want to wake mother," I whispered, pulling the dark hood of my cloak over my elven ears, the only indication towards my heritage.  
  
I had not the great stature of elves, nor the inherent calmness. I was small and seemed to be forever restless, though my brother always remarked on the grace of my restlessness, another elven trait aside from the great speed I had.  
  
I rode into the darkness, plunging headfirst into the forest with an urgency not lost on Big Sir, whose flanks began to glisten with perspiration even in the blackness of night. My intuition told me Aragorn was in danger, and come morning, I had better be there.  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: this is my first LOTR fanfic, so be kind. Reviews are treasured, any kind, it doesn't matter, flames are okay too.some hints now, Big Sir is the same breed of horse as Shadowfax (I'll get into that later) and Iverwan has premonitions.sort of a side effect of being part magical. 


	2. casualties

A/N: for phoenixqueen, yes, Arathorn had a brief bout with Iverwan's mother at a rowdy tavern. It was on a routine trip, but things didn't quite go as routine as planned. There was a storm, so Arathorn and his men stopped in at the first inn they came across, which didn't quite fit the profile for a king. By now, most of the patrons were drunk, and Arathorn, dressed in regular clothing, looked like just another weary traveller. Iverwan's mother, as was said earlier, wasn't a regular half-elf either. When she saw Arathorn, she thought he looked handsome, and she waited until they were both good and drunk.. One thing lead to another.. And the rest, as they say, is history.  
  
Dawn was near, and the sun, for the first time in my life, was unwelcome in all its glowing splendour. I still hadn't reached Aragorn, and I was beginning to become anxious.  
  
Big Sir understood, and tore even faster through the blur of trees, his caramel coat slick with sweat, and his mouth open and frothing. Big Sir ran like the wind, but to me, the wind didn't seem quick enough today.  
  
* * *  
  
Horse and rider entered into a meadow littered with ancient ruins, beneath the sound of steel on steel, was the ever present gurgle of a river.  
  
"Oh no," I murmured, through the trees she saw flashes of movement, many more than she had hoped. "Oh no." I whispered once more.  
  
Big Sir nudged my sword with his muzzle, evidently indicating I should run into the fray.  
  
"Quite right..Quite right" I stated, breathing a deep shaky breath. I mounted the tall stallion once more, shaking off fear like a blanket, and rode straight into the fight.  
  
* * *  
  
I was surrounded by the orc.things. I had seen them in my visions and had known their name, but at the moment, their name was not so important as their blades cutting down towards me.  
  
One attacked from my right, sending the whole throng after me. I parried and pivoted, catching two just below the breast plate in a sweeping arc. Even as I turned I could hear the sickening sound of their entrails sliding out of their bodies.  
  
I took off the head of one, the blood spraying like a mist of rubies, and soon, the dozen orcs all became one orc in my mind, a continuous battle, one where thinking was dangerous. I ran, leaving Big Sir, heading down a steep hill into the belly of the whale. The orcs swarmed in like bees to a flower, until they saw me rushing for them.  
  
It was strange, really. I was generally hot headed, but in a battle, all emotion seemed to drain away, leaving me clear headed, cold. Single moments seemed to stretch into hours, slowing down as I cut through the horde, leaving a trail of bloodied in my wake.  
  
I neared on the pack that seemed to be growing smaller, throwing myself into the battle, I could no longer count how many I'd killed, and I hadn't stopped yet. I inched my way further, hacking at bodies that seemed to crowd around the blur in the center.  
  
I had just stabbed one in the side when the distinct sound of an arrow became imminently clear. I ran from it, positioning myself at the back of my fellow fighter, whom I still hadn't had a clear look at.  
  
It seemed my hearing was off.  
  
The arrow struck me hard just below the shoulder, causing me to do two things, first, cry out, and second, leading me to believe I had not been the target, but my fighting companion.  
  
Tears which I hadn't realized I'd been crying clouded my vision, until all I was attacking were blurs without long blond hair, because that was all I knew of my fellow fighter.  
  
Somewhere I'd registered the sound of a horn, but I was occupied with the joy, and relief of the fleeing monsters.  
  
The other I'd been fighting with ran towards the sound, but I slumped on the ground, my hands shaking with adrenaline. It was then I noticed the true pain the arrow had inflicted, since my mind was no longer on the fight.  
  
I tried to put my left hand on the ground, but I winced in pain as soon as I had tried. The familiar clip-clop of hooves made me sigh in relief, it was Big Sir, who, of course, grunted disapproval at my degraded state.  
  
"Oh hush.I don't see you with an arrow sticking out of your shoulder," I told him angrily. He grunted again and then pushed me forward, not altogether gentlemanly.  
  
I rose after about five more rude shoves, following the sound of the horn. I wasn't crying any longer, the pain had dulled sufficiently to numbness.  
  
I rounded the hill, seeing two people, a blond man lying on the ground, with about five arrow wounds in his chest and back, holding the broken edge of a sword to his heart.  
  
He was saying something, though I wasn't close enough to hear it. He looked to be in great pain, and my heart leapt for him, the poor man. It was then I heard his last two words, and realized that the man leaning over him was my brother.  
  
"My King." He said. His voice held such loyalty, such admiration even in the face of death that I could not help but feel the tears once again fall upon my cheeks.  
  
* * *  
  
I watched my brother strap on the circlet of the man who had just been laid to rest, sure that I had not been noticed by any of the three companions, all of whom seemed to be feeling so much loss. I had stayed behind an out cropping of rocks where I had sunk to my knees, my strength beginning to fail, blood loss I think.  
  
I was silent as the began to walk towards me, unnoticed by any, they were all slowly walking backwards, staring silently at the flowing waters.  
  
I heard my brother say to the others in a most inspiring voice,  
  
"Lets hunt some orc!" and then he turned, half ready to sprint ahead to where the last few remaining had run past, and stop, dead in his tracks staring at my large steed. His eyes held disbelief, and yet, he called out a tentative "Big Sir? Is that you boy?"  
  
Big Sir whickered in acknowledgement. "I don't believe it!" he nearly shouted in an exasperated tone.  
  
"What now?" Questioned the surly looking dwarf who came around the other side, looking absolutely stricken at the sight of me, probably pale, blood soaking into my clothes.  
  
No sooner than a moment after the dwarf was an elf with long blond hair, the one I had saved, accidentally of course, but saved nonetheless, by taking the arrow meant for him. He two looked dumbstruck, as if he couldn't place me, but then it seemed he remembered.  
  
"Iverwan? What are you doing here?" Aragorn scolded as he quickly dropped down to inspect my wound.  
  
"I had a vision-owww! Careful it hurts!" I muttered as he touched the raw skin around where the puncture wound was.  
  
"It's going to hurt a lot more in a moment, Sister. Legolas, you knife and your cloak, now!" Aragorn ordered.  
  
The blonde pulled out a long, curving elven blade, tossing it hilt-wise to my brother, and then abandoned his cloak to him also. I heard the dwarf mutter distinctly to the elf, Legolas, "Sister?" and I heard Legolas mutter back. "I had no idea; she doesn't look altogether human either,"  
  
"Here," Aragorn said, thrusting a piece of dead wood at me, successfully drawing my back from the conversation, "Bite it. It's going to hurt, but it won't do any further damage."  
  
He slung the cloak over my front and began to cut away the sections of clothing that clung to the wound.  
  
"You biting the wood?" he asked. I nodded.  
  
I felt a wrenching sensation as the arrow was pulled from my back, and bit down, *hard*. Tears sprung into my eyes and the pain I had felt earlier was heightened nearly three-fold.  
  
"Now what happened?" he asked, after I had been bandaged, my front still covered by the cloak. I breathed in the scent. It smelled very good. Like the woods and cinnamon.  
  
"I can explain that," Stated the tall blonde. At the moment, I felt extremely sorry for him. Aragorn had always been a protective brother, even if he wasn't always around, which had made him just this side of murderous when it came to my welfare.  
  
"Well you had better star talking, Legolas," My brother seethed. I cringed.  
  
"I was caught in the onslaught of orcs, when she happened into the fray, I had no notion of who she was-"  
  
"And I still don't as a matter of fact!" The dwarf interrupted. Aragorn glared at him, and then returned his penetrating gaze back to Legolas.  
  
"Carry on,"  
  
"She heard the arrow coming and saved my life, and I am deeply indebted to your-your."  
  
"Sister, my sister." Aragorn stated, still angry as he turned to me.  
  
"It's not like I meant to!" I argued, "It just happened!" Clearly, the blood loss was getting to me.  
  
"Why does it always have to be this way with you? Rushing head long into things with not a care for your own safety! Iverwan, I don't understand you! A quarter elf and yet you still insist on behaving like a human child! Learn some sense!" He growled, more with care than with anger, only I think I was the only one who was able to discern it.  
  
Aragorn had ordered Legolas to give me a tunic, since my own was ruined, though the lanky elf's was more like a dress, falling nearly past my knees. We had decided to wait out the night where we were, Aragorn, after seeing to supper, and the fire, had gone off into a little corner out of the glow of the fire light to smoke his pipe gloomily.  
  
A/N: hope this is long enough for you phoenixqueen, because I am tired and I'm not writing anymore tonight! No Legolas and Iverwan yet. Give me another chapter to establish some relationships within the new dynamics, and then continue.I'd rather have a plot than just straight out falling in love.nothing wrong with fluff, but I'd rather have a story along with it.  
  
Mage O'Dell: This isn't a Mary sue, trust me.I'm nothing like Iverwan. But I admit there are a lot of characteristics that I borrow from people who have greatly influenced me, like all writers do. I will try especially hard though to keep my characters believable, you can count on that. ^_~' 


	3. Rememberances

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate the constructive criticism, and I'd like to announce (in big bold letters) THIS IS NOT A MARY SUE. I'm taking pains to make sure this is not, because everyone is saying--- be careful, starting to sound like a Mary sue--- and it's not, really. I know most people take the first two chapters to set up the character, but I've done it differently. I went to put the new character into the plot first, show how she and Aragorn were close and related, and then in this next chapter and a few after, work on the group dynamics. Figured I'd let you in on it...  
  
A/N: I just read over my second chapter, and I was like---wow. I have to not write when I'm tired.--- Sorry about the crazy spelling and punctuation. I don't have a beta, so you're going to have to put up with me for a while. I'll tell you what though, I will promise not to write when I'm tired.  
  
The light of the fire danced on the faces of my two companions. We sat in silence, though it seemed rather strained. I wondered if it was me. I suddenly felt as if I needed to get out of there, and quick.  
  
They were probably wondering about the fact that Aragorn had a sister that wasn't even human, and the elf, who I had been absently admiring from time to time; he was probably thinking how much better he was as a full elf.  
  
Sure, it was probably unfounded, but I'd found during my life, when it came to the wise and peace loving elves, they could be very cruel if they didn't think you were as good as them. I remember going to meet my Great Aunt for the first time, down in the golden woods of Lothlorien. I couldn't remember ever seeing an elf so beautiful as her.  
  
She had long blond hair, like most of the Lorien elves, an aquiline nose and eyes the color of irises in the morning. She walked very regally towards me, descending from steps weaved of tree branches. I wanted to run to her, and I told my mother so.  
  
"Mother, can I give her a hug? Please Mother?" I begged. The only thing holding me back was her firm hand on my shoulder.  
  
"No, Iverwan. That's not how an elf behaves." I stopped fidgeting that moment. All I ever wanted when I was small was to be a real elf, not the quarter elf that I was. I was so dazzled by the soft elegance in which they seemed to move, surrounded by a world of beauty and love.  
  
I had grown up travelling from one place to another; I knew the dregs of society, and I had no wish to live in such squalor. I wanted to be a regal elf, life steeped in tradition and family, ancient learning and wisdom.  
  
My Aunt stepped down onto the forest floor, and I noticed that something was wrong. Her face was full of contempt, hatred. I looked behind me to see if some one was walking past, surely that look couldn't be for me, her niece, but I was wrong, as we all are when we are children.  
  
"Lairea is that child-"She paused, as if thinking how to word what she was about to say, without offending my mother if she was wrong, "Not of the blood?"  
  
"No, Aunt. Her father is Human." A look of utter disgust came upon her features, shattering the illusion of beauty into some twisted, hateful thing. I grasped for my mother's hand, hoping to find comfort in the warmth of her, wanting to cry.  
  
"Just like your mother, Lairea, filth. That child is a disgrace! She's not even half-elven! That would have been bad enough, but you've seen fit to drag our family name through the mud and filth only to ease your sexual desires! You disgust me! That child disgusts me!" and with that, my aunt turned gracefully resuming her climb, leaving a shell-shocked child in her wake.  
  
I could feel my mother shaking with rage. Her hand squeezed mine so tight I was afraid it would break. I felt like I wasn't good enough to be an elf. And I wasn't. I had dishonoured my family just by being alive. My eyes misted, but I fought back the tears. I decided, then and there, even if I had done something so bad as be born, maybe I could make up for it eventually, become a hero or something, and heroes did not cry.  
  
I stepped back from the fire, feeling eyes boring into my back as I moved to sit by my brother. He had always loved me.  
  
"Aragorn?" I asked softly, waiting for a reply.  
  
There was none. I felt the tears once again. They always seemed to be just below the surface, like each time I held them back, it filled twice as much, until one day I wouldn't be able to hold them back anymore, and I'd just cry and cry and cry. That was not a comforting thought.  
  
"Are you mad at me?" I asked, tilting my head to look at his face.  
  
He put his pipe down, and gazed at me, as if trying to decide.  
  
"Not really," He finally said. "You just never think is all. You have one of your dreams, and then rush in head long to save everyone, and I'm afraid one day, your not going to be able to save yourself..I just want you to be safe and happy.." He trailed off, looking pointedly at my face.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asked. It always began like this, this game we played.  
  
"Nothing." I muttered, my part done.  
  
"There's something wrong, I can tell, I always have," he stated, raising his voice a bit.  
  
"There's nothing wrong! Just leave me alone!" I shouted at him, getting up and walking down through the path to the river. I heard the dwarf give a gruff laugh, and I decided I rather liked him, why I didn't know, he made me think he was an uncle to a brood of children or some thing of the sort, just by the laugh, like it was something familiar and reminiscent of better days.  
  
"Those two are definitely siblings Legolas, no use doubting it." He said. The elf looked confused.  
  
"I suppose. But I always thought Arathorn was faithful," He mentioned. The Dwarf gave a loud guffaw.  
  
"You go have yourself enough pints to drown a horse, and you tell me, if you woke up in a strange room with a strange woman, not remembering anything, would you claim to be faithful?"  
  
""Well, I suppose, I would have no knowledge of the night-"  
  
The sound of the stream cut of their friendly banter, and Aragorn pulled me to a stop.  
  
"What is wrong?" he questioned again, softer this time.  
  
I shook my head, "It's complicated."  
  
"Nothing is ever simple with you, Iverwan, dear sister." He stated playfully, trying to lighten my mood.  
  
"I was just remembering Great Aunt Murlitheul. Your elf friend Legolas seems to strike me as being of the same character," I told him defiantly. He didn't glare like I thought he would, nor did he yell. He pulled me close in a hug, and I wound my arms about him.  
  
"You aren't any worse than anyone because you're a quarter elf, and I assure you, Legolas, who you have been making doe-eyes at over the fire no less, is nothing like that old wind bag Murlitheul." I hugged him tight, and then pulled away.  
  
"I was not making doe-eyes at him, you and Arwen make doe-eyes at each other, I do not make doe-eyes, thank you very much."  
  
"You do too. If you didn't you wouldn't be denying it so much." I glared at him, and then threw my hands in the air.  
  
"What if I did make doe-eyes at him? What are you going to do about it?" I wasn't mad, only exasperated. It struck me as funny, because it was true. I had been staring at him somewhat intently, he was handsome, even for an elf. "It's not a crime to admire beauty! Look-the tree is beautiful! Will you accuse me of making doe-eyes at it?"  
  
"I could," He answered with a smile. I turned, not quickly enough though. He had gotten a glimpse of my smile.  
  
"Arrrghhh! Your incorrigible! Just like you were three-and-ten all over again!"  
  
  
  
A/N: There, some character development and the brother/sister dynamic. And, you all should be very proud of me; I even was able to work in some romance! Yes, I am proud. *tries to pat herself on the back, only manages to make the chair fall backwards* :: Her muse laughs until it cannot breath, points and makes face instead.::: 


End file.
